as, from the slippery footing for horses on the
paved streets of the inner town, and their
extreme narrowness, it is almost impossible to
ride safely on horseback through them. The
horses are, therefore, led to the Prater, and
riders in prospect go on wheels.

The drivers, who are also, like their
carriages, called Fiacres, are a class far superior
to our London cabmen. They are mostly
fellows of infinite wit. Their good things
are not always too coarse to be current
among country cousins. It is customary
for them to use divers cunning solicitations
to tempt the wavering into a ride; and never
was there one of the cloth who addressed a
fare otherwise than as " Your Grace." Their
usual costume, in winter, is a rough great-coat
lined with sheepskin, or adorned with an
enormous fur collar, in shape something like the
collar of a horse. Thus equipped, with a pair
of surprising moustaches, and perhaps a beard,
they look very remarkable men indeed, and
in England would be easily taken by the
uneducated mind for Grand Muftis. In summer,
their costume is that of an amateur
omnibus-man,—adding the moustache. Their
whips are a curiosity, being a stiffish stick,
with a solid thong of leather, knotted all the
way down. When rendered hard by
half-frozen grease, these are dreadful punishers.

The fiacres—that is, the drivers— are,
generally, remarkable for honesty. Leave what
you may, behind you—even a purse—nine
chances to one but you find it. In any
sort of secret, it is seldom that a fiacre
has betrayed his fare; and, though apt
enough to wrangle, if not rather overpaid,
he is on other occasions civil and zealous.
Their life is a hard one, for a bare subsistence.
They are out, in all weathers—in the
frost and snow, in the keen air of winter
nights; in the sultry heats and rains of
summer. They stand before the door of their
employers, from eight o'clock in the morning
until twelve at night, or follow him wherever
he goes, always ready, willing, and cheerful.
How either they or their horses feed,
or how their little carriages look so clean and
trim, it is difficult to make out.

The pains-taking Köhl, in his " Russia,"
gives a lively account (which we will abridge)
of the " Isvoshtshiks,"—or hackney coachmen
of St. Petersburg:--

"The most resolute pedestrian soon grows
tired of using his own feet in St. Petersburg,
and in utter despair roars out his ' Davai!
Isvoshtshik! ' to the first droshky stand.
He will seldom have occasion to ' sing
out ' his davai a second time. Nay, a man
need not even look at the serviceable
equipages, for if he only stand still for a moment,
and seem to deliberate in his own mind upon
the expediency of summoning a charioteer to
his assistance, the hint is quite sufficient, and
half-a-dozen sledges will immediately come
darting up to the spot where he stands. The
oat-bags are quickly thrown aside, the harness
drawn tight, and each of the rival candidates
for favour places himself upon his box, satisfied
apparently that he, and he alone, will
bear away the prize. ' Where to, Sir? ' ' To
the Admiralty.'—' I 'll go for two rubles.'—
' I for one and a half,' cries another, and so
they go on underbidding each other, till they
come down, perhaps, to half a ruble. You
take the cheapest, probably; but take care
the cheapest be not also the worst, or you
must prepare for a volley of jokes and banterings
from the disappointed applicants. ' Ah,
do but look, little father, how stingy you
are! '—' To save a few copeks you put up
with that ragged rascal for your coachman.'—
' He and his- three-legged animal will stick
fast before you get half way.'—'The grey-
bearded vagabond will be sure to upset you;
he's so drunk he can't stand.'—' He'll take
you to the shambles, and swear it's the
Admiralty.'—No one enjoys all this abuse,
meanwhile, more than the object of it, who laughs
in his sleeve, and grumbles out his ' Nitshevoss!
never fear, Sir; we shall get on well
enough.'

"These men are, for the most part, Russians
from all the different governments of the
empire; but among them there are also
Finlanders, Esthonians, Lettes, Poles, and
Germans. They arrive at St. Petersburg
generally as little boys of ten or twelve years old,
hire themselves as drivers to some owner of
hackney-carriages, whom they continue to
serve till they have saved enough to buy a
horse and vehicle, when they set up in
business on their own account. Their trade, as
all trades are in Russia, is uncontrolled by
corporation laws; and should fodder grow
dear, or business slack, the Isvoshtshik packs
up the few worldly goods he possesses, drives
away to the south, and reappears in the streets
of Novgorod or Moscow; thus, in pursuit of
fortune, they emerge now in one town, and
now in another, till chance enable them to
form a profitable and permanent establishment
in some one place. In the provincial
towns, where fodder is to be had for little or
nothing, they usually drive with two horses,
but in St. Petersburg, where everything, in
comparison, is enormously dear, the public
must content themselves with one.

"In winter the Isvoshtshik uses the favourite
national vehicle of a sledge, with which he
continues to grind the pavement as long as
the least trace of snow is to be felt under the
spring mud. A covered carriage he never
uses. The cloaks and furs of the passengers
must do the same service in Russia that the
roof of the coach does with us; and when
well wrapped up in a series of protecting
folds, the warm nucleus of life that occupies
the centre, patiently suffers the pelting of
snow, rain, and mud till the end of his journey,
where the dirty rind is peeled off, and the said
kernel steps forth clean and unspotted from
his muddy covering.

"The Isvoshtshiks of St. Petersburg appear